25 Days of Deamus
by sheebawolf
Summary: The 25 Days of Christmas drabble challenge - Deamus style! The time frame will differ from story to story, lengths of each drabble will vary, and none will take place within the same universe unless stated otherwise. Rating is subject to change as later chapters are posted. Happy Holidays!
1. Mistletoe

Transferred over from my Ao3 account for you lovely people to enjoy. Basically, in a unforeseen turn of events - completely unheard of, really - I've decided to actually partake in a holiday-themed writing challenge this year. And, despite my long track record of losing motivation and giving up partway through when it comes to EVERYTHING, I am nevertheless putting all my effort into completing this. SO, let's see how it goes, shall we? ;v;

* * *

The idea of mistletoe, as Dean came to understand, really wasn't so different to those belonging to the Wizarding world than it was among Muggles. Of course, the first time he'd seen a bewitched version of it, he would have been quick to state quite the opposite, after it had promptly barked a greeting at him the second he'd walked underneath it. Though with careful reconsideration, he ultimately decided that the overall principle was still very much the same, and left it at that.

The only true difference had to be how seriously everyone seemed to take the certain golden rule that traditionally came with the decorative plant. For instance, in Dean's third year, Fred and George had conjured up a bit of mistletoe in the Gryffindor Common Room - naturally, directly in the middle of the entrance through the portrait hole. Dean had watched in mild awe as every single student, regardless of gender, surrendered with a considerable lack of protest to kissing the person they'd walked in next to. Most were flustered, sure, though it didn't appear to be nearly as big of a deal as Dean had initially imagined it to be.

This became especially apparent when he'd even caught sight of Neville reluctantly pecking a red-faced Ron on the mouth one day, only to part ways without so much as a second glance from the majority of the room's occupants. Aside from Ron's twin brothers, of course, who's adjoined wolf whistles had earned a few good-natured laughs, but otherwise nothing else of importance.

It was only a matter of time before he fell victim to the festive charade himself. Even with the measures he took to avoid it at all costs, Dean had slipped up while walking back to the Common Room after a particularly difficult end-of-term Potions exam with Seamus in tow. Looking back, he'd blame it on being distracted - the test had been brutal in every way, for it certainly had _nothing_ to do with the fact that he always seemed to be at least a little distracted whenever he was in the presence of the sandy-haired boy.

Seamus seemed to notice their mistake at the very same moment Dean did, though instead of heaving an exasperated sigh of sorts as one might have expected him to do, he simply broke into one of his signature, cheeky grins instead.

"Well, that was bound t'happen sooner or later," Seamus laughed, acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be about to kiss your best mate. Though Dean didn't miss the hint of nervousness that wrapped around his words - after all, he was programmed to pick up on the slightest trace of any emotion in his best mate's voice, after a solid friendship going on three years strong.

"Uh - right," Dean nodded, forcing his own smile that he was sure wasn't at all that convincing. This was all too easily confirmed as Seamus, as bubbly and carefree as always, seemed to swallow any nerves he was feeling and placed a single hand on Dean's shoulder in order to promptly drag him down to his height.

"Ah, lighten up, mate. 'Tis the season, after all." And that was it before he was pressing their lips together with surprising force, and Dean had to clutch the books in his arms tighter to his chest in fear that he'd drop them in his newly dumbfounded state.

Then, as quickly as it had been initiated, it was over. Seamus even patted Dean's cheek softly before pulling away completely, that same, brash grin threatening to split his face clean in two.

"Same time tomorrow, then?" Seamus quipped lightly, laughing again at Dean's look of bewilderment before sauntering away into the Common Room without so much as another word.

It didn't take long after that for Dean to decide, that although mistletoe was indeed very much the same as he'd always known it to be, he had surely never held such _appreciation_ for it in his entire life.


	2. Hot Chocolate

Christmastime at Hogwarts was very easily Seamus' favorite time of year. He immensely enjoyed everything about it, from the falling snow outside to the decor that coated the inside of the castle. Of course, it all only lasted right up until he had to go home for the holidays, and in turn leave the certain dark skinned, towering bloke of his best friend behind - who, most importantly, had very recently been promoted to boyfriend status, something Seamus had taken to proudly telling anyone and everyone whether they had asked him about it or not.

They made it somewhat of a tradition a few years back, to meet up at the Three Broomstick's the day before the train was set to carry them home for the end of term break. And Seamus, never one to hide his feelings very well, did nothing but sulk the entire way there. Dean, on the other hand, simply couldn't keep the smile off of his face.

"Come on, Seamus," he said softly, hugging his arm tighter around the shorter boy's shoulders as they walked down the path to Hogsmeade. "It's only a couple of weeks."

"Easy for _you_ t'say," Seamus retorted, and by the way that Dean quickly opened and closed his mouth, he had the faintest suspicion that the other had to resist making a comment that if Seamus kept his face scowled like that for too long, it'd surely stay that way. " _You_ don't have a house full of Irish boozers to face durin' the holidays." As if that had anything to do with it.

Instead of calling Seamus out on the obvious, however, Dean simply sighed. "Okay, okay, you're right. But even so, it's not going to do either of us any good if you spend our last day together moping around like a spoiled brat, now is it?"

"M'not a brat," Seamus mumbled sourly, crossing his arms over his chest in such a way that would suggest to anyone that he must be doing it on purpose.

"No? Could have fooled me," the taller teen remarked, biting his lip to keep his grin from growing to preposterous sizes. Dean was lucky that he was already looking at Seamus the moment he'd whipped his head up to glower at him, for it provided the perfect opportunity to crane his neck down and capture his unsuspecting - and, still pouting - lips in a tender kiss.

As they broke apart, it was easy to tell that Seamus' bitter mood had already subsided considerably, even if that pout had yet to completely disappear. Seamus had always found it difficult to stay upset whenever Dean was near, a fact that was true even before they had started dating. Despite being as naturally stubborn as he always was, he realized that the point Dean had made before was nothing but logical, and gave in all too easily.

"Fine, you win. But yeh're buyin' my drink," he said with false arrogance, and Dean laughed that open, hearty laugh that never failed to make Seamus' heart swell.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, love."

Their arrival to the Three Broomsticks proved welcoming in a number of ways. For one, the blast of heat that met them, stark in contrast to the icy chill outside, was an immense relief in itself, but the way that Dean held the door open for him on impulse - exactly how had Ginny complained about that, again? - had Seamus wanting to kiss him right in front of all the the people who'd instinctively turned their heads upon hearing the bell chime above the front door. They took a seat in one of the more private cornered booths, automatically sitting almost _too_ close to one another without really thinking much about it. Nowadays, it felt wrong somehow to sit _without_ their thighs touching or their knees pressing firmly together. Besides, their closeness helped Seamus keep his mind off of the fact that it was _Ginny_ instead of him sitting here with Dean not so long ago.

With their orders placed - hot chocolate, not butterbeer, as part of their tradition - and their winter gear removed, Seamus settled back comfortably against the tall, wooden backrest of the booth. It still amazed him sometimes, as Dean settled his arm back around his shoulders and Seamus leaned further into his side, how easy their transition from friends to boyfriends had been. They hadn't been dating for very long, by any means, and yet they acted as if their newly formed relationship had been going on for an eternity. Perhaps that was simply how it was with all new couples, and yet Seamus suspected it had everything to do with the closeness they already had in their friendship, and that though the relationship was new, it had still been years in the making even if neither of them truly realized it until later on.

"Still thinking about going home tomorrow?" Dean's voice broke Seamus out of the trance he hadn't noticed he'd slipped into, and the shorter Gryffindor simply smiled with a curt shake of his head.

"Nah, not so much," he admitted, though sighed all the same. "Am gonna miss you, though. Even if s'just for a little while."

That seemed to hit something deep within Dean's senses, as the next second his own smile had suddenly faltered and his expression turned quite sincere. "I know. I am, too - I mean, it's never the same without you. Even _if_ I've got my little sisters bothering me the entire time."

His attempt to revive the mood fell short when Seamus, struck by the sheer affection in Dean's voice, surged forward without any warning to bring their lips firmly together. They kissed for only a moment, as much as _anyone_ could do appropriately while in a room full of people. When Seamus reluctantly pulled back, his grin was finally in full force for the first time that day, any residual bitterness long gone from his features.

"Yeh're a no good sap at the best of times, y'know that?" Seamus quipped gently, reaching for the hand that dangled off of his shoulders in order to lace their fingers together. Dean's smile returned shortly after, and he ducked his head with modesty.

"Guess you bring out the best _and_ worst in me," came his reply, squeezing Seamus' hand while softly nudging his knee with his own.

"And which one does 'big, hopeless sap' fall under, exactly?"

"I think I'll let you decide that one."

Seamus simply answered with another warm, lingering peck to his lips that was forced to end prematurely as their drinks arrived in hot, steaming mugs. Untwining their fingers so he could grasp the handle, Seamus held his drink high above the table and sent Dean a purpose-filled look.

"Considerin' we won't be together to ring in the new year," he started, eyeing Dean's cup with raised brows until he, too, similarly lifted it up on cue. "Here's to a bright new future, one without sorrow or fear, where we can live in peace for the rest of our days."

"I'll toast to that any day," Dean said genuinely, and adding a quick, "cheers," carefully bumped their mugs together in the hopes that Seamus' words would indeed prove true in the coming dark times ahead.


	3. Snow

Each and every year, Hogwarts underwent a certain kind of transformation during the winter months that was unlike any other. From the moment the first snowfall covered the grounds, the students seemed to burst forward with an energy that simply couldn't be compared to anything else, an energy that not even the most introverted Ravenclaw or snobby Slytherin could escape from. It swept through the castle like a plague, until the grounds were coated not only with snow, but the bodies of dozens of students at a time, all itching to get their fill of winter-themed fun.

Bundled up and buzzing with even more excitement than usual, fourteen-year-old Seamus Finnigan was the first of the five dormmates to bolt all the way from the boy's dormitory's stairs to the doors leading out into the snowy courtyard. After a week's worth of classes preparing them for the Yule Ball just around the corner, it was no underestimation that they _all_ needed the escape away from the pressure of finding someone to go with - all expect Neville, of course, who had been very much content to stay in and partake in extra practice for the upcoming dance.

Seamus had promptly ducked behind a wall and already started a fine collection of snowballs - the muggle way, as Dean had so fervently insisted - well before the other boys had reached the cold, winter air. Waiting with a patience strictly reserved for times like this, Seamus hid, poised to strike at the very first sight of round-rimmed glasses, red hair, or dark skin.

His opportunity came in the form of the last choice, Dean entering the courtyard with an almost laughable amount of innocence on his cheery features. It was then that Seamus wasted no time at all in springing up from his hiding spot, yelling something in _Gaelic_ of all things, and firing a surprisingly well-aimed snowball straight for his unsuspecting best friend.

The propelled clump of snow hit the tall boy square in the neck, which was only partially guarded by the red and gold scarf loosely tied around it. Dean gave a surprised shout, calculating the direction the snowball had been thrown from just quickly enough to catch Seamus' before he had the chance to duck down behind the half wall again.

Seamus' boasting grin fell from his face the second he'd caught the dangerous glint in Dean's eye, yet apparently not quite discouraged enough to prevent him from throwing another snowball - this one colliding directly with Dean's face - before grabbing an armful of the rest and boldly making a run for it, using the time it took for Dean to sputter and wipe the snow from his face as a head start.

But Dean's legs were longer, and his lean body quicker, and he'd successfully managed to reach his Irish friend _without_ receiving another snowball to the face. Any previously considered mercy effectively dripped away along with the melting snow on his cheeks, and as Seamus turned to try and ward off the attack, Dean struck anyway. He hit Seamus with enough force to knock the poor boy flat on his back, the few snowballs he hadn't dropped during his escape attempt crushing between their chests.

"You're dead, Finnigan," Dean laughed, sitting right on top of Seamus' stomach and leaning forward to gain the proper leverage needed in pinning both of his arms to the ground. Seamus struggled on impulse despite the obvious realization that he was totally and utterly trapped, legs kicking uselessly in the snow until he suddenly stilled, and his expression turned unreadable.

Dean may be oblivious to it all, yet this particular position had shamefully played within the shorter boy's head several times before. Most particularly at night, behind the privacy of his fourposter bed with the hangings drawn, though there certainly hadn't been any _snow_ involved in his guilty pleasured fantasies.

"Shove off, Dean, yeh bloody brute," Seamus grumbled, thankful for the exertion that took place beforehand to use an an excuse to why his face was so deeply flushed should Dean decide to question it.

"Oh, no, not until I get my revenge. Now, what to do... shove snow in your face? Nah, that's too easy." Any further options Dean listed through fell upon deaf ears, for Seamus was far too preoccupied with the certain... _problem_ that was steadily growing inside his pants to pay attention to his friend's ramblings.

" _Dean_ ," he tried again, firmer this time with the faintest hint of panic behind his voice, suppressing the urge to squirm again with the realization it would surely only make things worse. After it was clear Dean either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him, Seamus considered as a last resort that pleading with him would maybe appeal to his kind nature, instead. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? C'mon, just let me up. Yeh're heavier than yeh look, y'know."

"Sorry just ain't gonna cute it, mate, not this ti-"

"Dean!" There was certainly not a friendly tone to be heard in the bark that left Seamus' mouth, and when Dean looked down in surprise at his friend, the riled expression he wore was quite the perfect match.

"Woah, what's your problem? It's just a bit of fun," Dean said in his own defense, though he did ease up on his hold of Seamus' wrists enough to release them.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm not in the mood anymore." It was clear now that Seamus was visibly uncomfortable, and he turned his head to the side amidst his embarrassment of the issue that certainly wasn't about to go away on its own. And although Dean looked perplexed, he appeared to decide it wasn't worth a fight, and moved to sit back and let Seamus up.

Only, he sat back a little further than he intended to.

Right on top of Seamus' crotch.

Even a fool would have to question the certain _hardness_ that definitely wasn't supposed to be there, and it did take Dean a moment to process it, but when the realization came in the form of his friend's widening eyes and slacking jaw, Seamus wanted to sink into the frozen earth and never resurface again.

"Uh - Shay...?"

"Don't. Just - don't say anything, _please_." Seamus pleaded, desperate, the redness of his freckled cheeks doing a fine job of putting Ron Weasley to shame.

"But... I don't understand."

"Really, Dean? What's so fuckin' difficult to understand?"

"No, I mean - why didn't you say anything? Before today, that is."

Dean was a smart guy, there was no denying that. The fact that he was able to piece this all together into something more long term than just an accidental stiffy in the middle of a wrestling match wasn't surprising in the least. Seamus swallowed thickly, unable to meet Dean's eyes even as his ear started to prickle with numbness against the snow it was firmly pressed into.

"Not exactly an easy conversation to have, is it? What d'you think I'd even say?"

"Well, I dunno what you could _say_... but I suppose this could be a good of a start as any."

There was nothing in this world that could have ever prepared Seamus for what happened next, occurring so fast that his mind barely had time to process the gloved hands coming to rest on either side of his face, forcing him to look upwards again before Dean's lips came crashing down against his. Seamus gave a noise of shock somewhere in the back of his throat, until his brain finally caught up and he was kissing back without even thinking twice about it, feeling so natural that it was almost entirely instinctual.

He wasn't aware how long they kissed, but Seamus managed to return to reality at the burning of his lungs in their need for oxygen, pulling back with a gasp. Dean looked more smug than he had ever seen him before, and he thought that Dean might say the same about him in the terms of how completely flustered he was, uncharacteristically quiet as he searched for something to say.

Though it was Dean who spoke first, around the same time that he apparently realized he was still sitting atop Seamus' groin, slowly getting up and holding out a hand for his friend to take. Which he did, after another moment or two of gawking wordlessly, standing up on shaky knees.

"Sorry, if that was a bit... _forward_." The sheepish smile on Dean's face would have probably registered along the lines of cute if Seamus had not been so overcome with the desire to kiss it off of him. He resisted, though, far too aware that somebody could very well wander up on them despite the fact they'd run so far away from the rest of the crowd.

"Are you kidding me? Merlin, Dean, if I'd known it was _that_ easy, I sure as hell wouldn't 'ave waited this bloody long." Seamus was soon to return to his usual, foolhardy self as the bewilderment started to subside, laughing breathlessly as he brushed some of the snow off of his pants, still painfully aware of the slight bulge there that he was thankful his heavy jacket was able to conceal.

Dean looked as if he was lost in deep, troubled thought for a moment, the upwards curves of the corners of his mouth twitching slightly before he met Seamus' eyes with a certain level of determination behind his own.

"So, um... is this a good time to ask if you wanna go to the Yule Ball with me?"


	4. Candy Cane

Aaaaand the smut officially breaks loose. Rating has now been bumped up to Mature, and will very likely be raised to Explicit sometime in the near future (simply because I have no self control whatsoever, and tasteless Holiday-themed obscenities are my _thing_ ).

Enjoy~

* * *

"Seamus, what are yo-"

"Shh, love - I'm _improvising_. Just... go along with it, okay?"

Dean heaved a deep sigh. He had learned a long time ago, that it was best to simply let Seamus do whatever it was he was set on doing, for there was no force on earth or anywhere else that could change the Irishman's mind once it had been made up.

Perhaps that's why he hadn't been _overly_ surprised to wake up with the shorter man hovering above him, that mischievous glint in his eye something he barely even batted an eye at anymore. That's what over a decade of friendship and an few added years of marriage did, he supposed. It desensitized him.

Not that he was _complaining_ , of course, but the one thing he'd become painfully aware of once he had fully come to his senses was that candy canes were _very_ sticky when melted.

Which was what was now coating his bare chest, dripping down his sides and pooling between his back and their - freshly cleaned, might he add - satin grey sheets. It came from a small bowl that Seamus held in his hands, where he could just faintly make out the remains of the half-melted canes sticking out from over the rim. Dean hadn't the slightest clue where his husband managed to discover these ideas, whether he read about them somewhere, or if it was simply of his mind's own creation. Either way, he wasn't quite sure that even the use of magic would be able to _completely_ rid of the gooey mess once it was all said and done with.

"You do realize we just washed these sheets," Dean pointed out, unable to hold his tongue any longer as Seamus accidentally spilled a copious amount of soupy, peppermint candy all over their bed as he repositioned himself to straddle Dean's waist.

"Never mind the _sheets_. I can guarantee they'll be the furthest thing from yehr mind in just a few seconds." His words were punctuated by a drizzle of warm, liquefied candy cane that landed right on one of his exposed nipples, and Dean sucked in a sharp breath despite himself. The reaction seemed to please Seamus, who, without missing a beat, dropped down to lick off the substance in a very slow, deliberate manner.

Dean watched him carefully, if not a bit curiously, brow arching and head tilting forward in order to gain a better look. It was no use pretending to be sore about the mess - Seamus saw through that act every time, and besides, he really couldn't deny the resulting interest that was peaked, a bit awed of how purely _erotic_ the relatively simple gesture proved to be.

Biting his lip, Dean surrendered with a heavy sigh. "All right, fine. But you're cleaning this up on your own, afterwards."

"Deal," Seamus agreed with a smirk, dragging his tongue over his own bottom lip before going back to work, licking a long stripe through the melted candy that resided on Dean's chest until he'd reached the base of his neck. It was there that he paused, drawing back just long enough to lean forward and capture Dean's lips in a heated kiss, tongue immediately darting in to share the taste of peppermint on his mouth.

The taller man hummed in approval, indeed very quickly forgetting all about the satin sheet's well being in favor of returning the kiss in earnest. He licked his way into Seamus' mouth, placing one hand on the back of his husband's head and running the other down the length of his spine. They kissed like that for a while, until Seamus grew restless with anticipation to continue the plan he apparently had set out for them, pulling back with a smack and that same overly confident grin still plastered on his face.

He was on a mission, Dean could plainly see it in his eyes, straightening back up and taking the bowl he had set down earlier while slowly swirling around its contents. All Dean could do was watch and wait, folding his hands behind his head in order to prop his neck up and see more clearly. Seamus appeared lost in thought for a moment, until he flicked his blue eyes back to Dean's, and that was that.

He'd without warning emptied the bowl - save for the bits and pieces of candy cane that still poked out of the melted mess - right onto Dean's stomach, who jumped slightly at the sudden warmth that spread across his skin. The bowl was discarded somewhere to the side shortly after, and Seamus scooted back onto Dean's thighs, all without breaking their eye contact. He allowed a single finger to trace an absentminded design through the thick, sugary substance, before he drew it away and stuck it right into his own mouth.

Oh, so _this_ was the game he was intent on playing. Dean could surely comply with that, staring fixedly as his husband sucked fervently the single, pale digit, eyes slipping half closed while he breathed steadily through his nose.

Then, around the same time both of Dean's hands had found their way to the Irishman's waist, he stopped, hand drawing away from his lips where it came to grip lightly at Dean's forearm. Dean could feel the dampness of the finger that had just been inside Seamus' mouth, and Seamus gave him one last, lingering look before he was practically tearing down Dean's boxers. It was as if he was sent into a _frenzy_ , clawing at the waistband until it was out of the way, Seamus shimmying his way down Dean's thighs in preparation for his grand scheme.

As Dean predicted, Seamus wasn't quite finished with his peppermint concoction just yet, dragging a hand through the mess on Dean's stomach while the other reached down to grasp his already semi-hardened cock. Dean made a strained sound somewhere in the back of his throat, shifting his hips with a building sense of eagerness.

Never had Dean imagined that the feeling of melted candy cane of all things would feel so _good_ spreading against the sensitive skin of his cock until Seamus had smeared it all over the underside of his length. He was suddenly, very incredibly thankful for the creativity that his husband naturally possessed, sighing in contentment as Seamus made quick work in coating him from tip to base. And if that was anything to divulge in, the following sensation of Seamus' mouth wrapping around the head of his cock was _everything_.

It was sticky and messy and _perfect_ all at once. Dean marveled in the way that this never seemed to grow old, that despite being together for so long, their intimacy always seemed to feel brand new each and every time. The tall man clutched one fist full of sticky sheets and the other of Seamus' short, sandy hair, throwing his head back as he let out a deep moan.

Seamus worked with very precise purpose, taking his time in carefully licking and sucking off every last drop of the minty substance until he was left with a clean surface. Pausing for just a moment or two, he licked his lips before diving right back in and taking Dean as deep into his mouth as he could manage, hollowing his cheeks while his tongue moved with increasing speed until Dean could feel himself getting close. He tugged at Seamus' hair on reflex, knowing perfectly well he wouldn't need the warning.

He came right into Seamus' mouth mere seconds later, giving a strangled shout as his back arched off of the mattress. Seamus popped off of him shortly after, visibly and very deliberately swallowing his mouthful as he crawled over Dean's spent body until he was laying his full weight on top of him. The residual candy cane left over on Dean's stomach fell unnoticed as their torsos connected - knowing Seamus, he likely still wasn't finished with it completely - and Seamus reached up to pull Dean into another, deep kiss.

Dean was instantly met with the strong taste of peppermint mixed with the admittedly familiar essence of himself. An odd combination, yet it was easily one of the most purely _sensual_ things he'd encountered thus far to be tasting such a mixture on Seamus' mouth.

When they finally broke apart, both men had the most satisfying of smiles on their kiss-swollen lips. Dean idly traced his fingertips up Seamus' back, noticing the blatantly obvious tenting in the other's pajama bottoms as his husband sat back to straddle his hips again.

"So, what's the verdict?" Seamus asked, raising an expectant eyebrow.

Dean simply answered by reaching down and grabbing Seamus' cock through his pants, enjoying the way that his lover's breath hitched and how his eyes fluttered closed at the contact.

"Well..." Dean began, slowly palming the shorter man until he suddenly withdrew his hand and gathered up a small amount of the drying candy cane from Seamus' stomach. "I reckon I better give it a try myself before answering that question, don't you think?"

The speed in which Seamus' eyes flew open actually earned a hearty laugh from Dean, though it was nothing in comparison to how quickly Seamus moved to flip them over, sprawling out on his back like a neglected cat begging for attention.

"Yeah, I do suppose that's a pretty good idea."

Dean smirked, positioning himself over Seamus' awaiting figure with feigned casualness. He could now properly understand his husband's eagerness for this little game. "Okay, then - but you're _still_ cleaning all of this up by yourself after we're done."


	5. Christmas Tree

Basically, I wrote this under the perception that it takes place in some sort of non-magic AU. Well, because Seamus and Dean living as poor, muggle college students? Yes, please :')

* * *

It was true that Dean had grown accustomed to surprises after the decision to move in with Seamus, and yet he still always managed to _be_ surprised each and every time the Irishman came up with something new.

They had agreed early on not to decorate for Christmas this particular year. Money was tight, and considering the fact they would both be going home to their families for the majority of the Holiday season, it just made sense. Seamus had naturally been disheartened at first, though ultimately agreed once their end of month's rent had come in the mail that they could only barely afford to pay.

And so for Dean to come home after a long day of tiring university classes to a tree - no, it couldn't _really_ be considered a tree. It stood two feet tall at most, perched on top of their coffee table with a single string of partially lit multicolored lights looping around the few, wilting branches it had left. Dean gawked at it for a moment, until Seamus appeared through the entryway of their kitchen and spotted him.

"Oh, I didn't hear you come in. Listen, before yeh say anything-"

"What is that?" Dean cut him off anyway, pointing a single, gloved finger towards the object in question.

"Okay, I _know_ it looks bad, but-"

Dean interrupted him again, shouldering off his jacket while firmly shaking his head. "Bad? Seamus, it can barely even _stand up_. Where on earth did you manage to find it, exactly?"

"See, if yeh'd just let me explain," Seamus started, and it was somehow only then that Dean noticed he was holding a box of, from what he could see poking out from the top, an array of mismatched, largely broken ornaments. Dean opened his mouth to inquire about them, but Seamus simply held up a hand in protest and continued. "On the way home from class, I found it just layin' by a dumpster on the street. All this stuff was there, too."

"You... got it in the trash."

"It wasn't _in_ the trash, it was _next_ to the trash. We're not poor enough to go dumpster divin', yet."

"Did you ever stop to think that if it was... ' _next_ ' to the trash, it was for good reason?"

Seamus seemed to think about that as if he'd never even _dreamed_ of considering it before, turning to set the box of decorations on the floor before facing Dean again.

"Well, yes, but just think about it. We decided to skip on puttin' a tree up because of money issues, right? This was all _free_. I dunno about you, but I'm not about to pass up on free, and yeah, it's definitely not about to win any _beauty awards_ or anythin'... but can you really complain that much? It's still a tree, and I-"

He cut himself short this time, heaving a rather exasperated sigh as he moved to sit on their old, battered couch in front of the so-called Christmas tree. He had a solemn look on his face, and instantly Dean felt bad for reacting so poorly towards what Seamus obviously thought to be a positive thing. Exhaling slowly, he peeled off his gloves and jacket, leaving them by the front door as he crossed their tiny living room without removing his boots, sitting next to his boyfriend and placing a comforting hand on his knee.

"I just... this is our first Christmas living together, y'know?" Seamus murmured, staring blankly ahead at the little tree. "I wanted to do _something_ , even if wasn't much. I... I can take it down, if yeh want me to."

Dean didn't hesitate in turning to face Seamus on the couch, grasping both hands in his and prompting him to meet his eyes. He hated seeing the shorter man so dejected, and besides, it _could_ be hell of a lot worse.

"Shay, love, you don't have to take it down," he told him gently, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Besides, I'm sure it'll look better when we get those ornaments on it, right?"

Seamus lit up in an instant, grinning wide as he surged forward to kiss Dean, _hard_. Their teeth even knocked together with the force behind it, and Dean simply laughed into his boyfriend's mouth, resisting the urge to chase his lips as Seamus pulled away and sprang up from the couch. Still beaming, he picked up the box of misfit decorations from the floor and placed it on the coffee table next to the scarcely lit tree.

"At least I won't need you to reach the top of this one," Seamus chuckled, taking out a star shaped ornament with a single missing point that Dean assumed they would use to substitute as a tree topper.

"Right - even _your_ short arse can manage that."

The punch that was delivered to his arm was unexpected, though Dean still drew away laughing all the same. He could tell Seamus was trying to look offended, but he simply couldn't fight the grin long enough to properly do so, and Dean found it so endearing that he couldn't resist leaning down to kiss him again.

"I love you," he said around his smile, very suddenly overcome with emotion for the small gesture that Seamus had done for them in spite of their financial woes. For it ultimately didn't matter how ugly the tree may be, but rather the thought that was put behind it that ultimately counted in the long run.

The brilliant grin on Seamus' face softened into something that was full of affection and sentiment, leaning up on his toes to bring their lips back together.

"Ah, I love you, too. Even if yeh _don't_ like my dumpster tree."

Dean could only smile wider at that, reaching around Seamus to pluck another, cracked ornament out of the cardboard box and briefly thinking to himself that the he was right. He really didn't see much to complain about when he was spending his first Christmas officially living with the man he loved more than he ever thought he could.


	6. Angel

Another muggle-based oneshot, revolving around a domestic dads!AU. The three Finnigan children are carefully thought-out OCs of mine ( _insert shameless self plug to my multi-muse Tumblr roleplay blog for them under the url **pyroborne**_ ), and appear - minus Aedan - in this drabble as follows:

▪ Aedan Finnigan, nine years old  
▪ Kerry Finnigan, seven years old  
▪ Cassidy Finnigan, five years old

All children are biologically Dean's, paired with the use of a surrogate and an egg donor matching Seamus' physical features (blue eyes, freckles, and so on). Dean and Seamus are around thirty-four at the time of this fic. More info about this particular verse/the kids can be found on the listed Tumblr blog above should anybody be interested!

* * *

" _Dad_ , it's not supposed to bend like that!"

"Just sit still for a second, I'll straighten it back out."

"No, you're going to break it!"

Seamus sat back, defeated, drawing his hands away from the cardboard wings he was attempting to fix to his youngest daughter's back after they had accidentally fallen off. The school's Christmas concert was steadily approaching, and although he was fortunate his husband possessed the artistic talent needed to make the outfit for her angelic role, with him having been called to work on a Saturday, and their daughter all but demanding to have her costume repaired _immediately_ , he wasn't currently feeling all that fortunate anymore.

"Cassidy, please. If you want them put back on now, yeh're just going to have to trust that I won't break it, okay? _Or_ , you can wait until pop gets home, and he can help instead."

Neither option seemed to satisfy the little girl in the least, who simply pouted and folded her arms over her chest with a huff, all without meeting her father's eye. How this child had managed to inherit his personality to such a _remarkable_ degree without the presence of true, biological relation, Seamus would never know.

"Fine," she eventually muttered, sitting down on the couch with her tiny arms still firmly crossed. "I'll wait until pop gets back."

Seamus considered for a moment that he probably should feel at least a _little_ hurt that his daughter didn't trust him enough to help repair her costume, though after remembering the great Barbie incident a couple of years back, he quickly brandished that thought. Instead, he sat down next to her, resting the smile that threatened to break though as her little, wire halo nearly fell off of her head of thick, brown curls as she dipped under his added weight to the cushions.

"He won't be very long, now. Called and said he was on his way not five minutes ago," Seamus assured, leaning around her in the attempt to meet her eye. Cassidy realized this and moved to turn away from him, until she hesitated and, with visible reluctance, uncrossed her arms and slowly looked up at Seamus.

"Okay... it's gotta be perfect, you know. Lily Potter is gonna be an angel, too, and she was one last year so she _already_ has a costume. And it was really pretty, remember?"

"I know, I remember. But yehr costume will be just as pretty, you'll see."

Cassidy had opened her mouth to say something else, until her older sister entered the living room and effectively cut off her train of thought. Their son, Aedan, was currently visiting said Potters' home, and would not be back until later.

"She's not still wining about that angel costume, is she?"

" _Kerry_ ," Seamus warned, sending his oldest daughter a stern look that fell short as Cassidy took it upon herself to jump to her own defense.

"I'm not wining! You're just jealous."

"Yeah, okay - whatever you say, Cass," Kerry replied, completely unaffected by her sister's accusation as she moved to sit on the armchair next to the couch. Although only seven, herself, Kerry Finnigan was strikingly mature for her age, and Seamus was thankful that it in turn seemed to reduce the amount of fighting that went on between the two young girls.

Again, Cassidy had readied herself to speak again - and again, she was interrupted by the front door swinging open and Dean stepping in out of the cold. Just like Seamus has always been known for, Cassidy held the very same, overactive mind, and all too easily forgot about whatever she had wanted to say to her sister in favor of launching off of the couch towards her father with an unintelligible shout.

"Ah, there's my little angel," Dean grinned, not missing a beat as he bent down to pick up the little girl who still insisted that she wasn't too big to be carried - Dean's back would beg to differ as he aged, Seamus was sure of it. "My angel - without her wings?" Dean commented a moment later upon noticing the lack of the cardboard cutouts on her back, sending his husband a quizzical look.

"They fell off and she wouldn't let me fix it," came Seamus' brief explanation, shaking his head in good-nature as he also left the couch and approached them, Kerry trailing behind him. "Afraid I was gonna break 'em, so she waited for you to get home."

Dean's expression changed to something far more understanding, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Cassidy's wild hair before setting her back down and removing his outdoor wear. She wasted no time in sprinting back to the couch in order to retrieve her angel wings, holding them out expectantly towards her pop.

"Okay, Cassie, let's see what we can do."

After pausing to deliver a welcoming kiss to Seamus' lips and gentle squeeze of Kerry's shoulder - before she retreated back to the privacy of her bedroom - Dean joined their youngest child on the couch and went to work on repairing her costume, carefully tacking the cutout wings on the back of her dress where they belonged with the use of safety pins. A simple task, though Dean still made it look effortless, whereas Seamus had struggled for a good solid minute to even get the pin to go through the cardboard the right way.

"There, that should do it," Dean announced shortly after, lightly tugging at the base of the paired wings to ensure they'd stay put. "Just be careful with them, all right? They're not made to be played with."

Cassidy nodded, nearly jumping in place amidst her excitement. Seamus had yet to be convinced she'd actually be able to sit still long enough for the concert to run its course, though they'd come to find that out soon enough. With an enthusiastic hug to Dean's side, she exclaimed a brief thanks to him before running off again, not giving him the chance to warn her again about being gentle with her costume before she was out of sight. Laughing, Seamus walked over to the couch and sat next to his husband, raising an amused eyebrow towards him.

"Are you sure I had anything to do with making her?" Dean joked in relation to the carbon copy of Seamus' personality the little girl showed, sagging against the cushions as the work day suddenly seemed to catch up to him. Seamus easily reclined along with him, adjusting slightly so that he was resting his head against Dean's shoulder.

"That crazy hair definitely didn't come from me," he pointed out, smiling fondly as he glimpsed an angel outfit-clad Cassidy darting up the stairs that led to the second floor, likely to go and bother her sister. Kerry would forever deny it, but it was rather obvious that they both enjoyed each other's company.

"Think she might get stage fright last minute?" Dean asked after a few moments, turning to nuzzle his nose into Seamus' cropped hair and sighing contentedly.

"Her? Not a chance. If anything they'll have to keep remindin' her to stay quiet in between her lines." That earned a muffled snort from his husband, who otherwise remained silent. Knowing him, he'd end up dozing off just like this, face pressed into Seamus' head and lanky legs stretched out on the coffee table in front of them.

Not that Seamus minded, of course - although, he'd probably need to fetch the remote before Dean got too comfortable in order to provide _some_ sort of entertainment while the other took a well deserved nap.


	7. Pie

The first time Dean had tried the apple pie served at the Great Hall's long Gryffindor table, he was quite sure he had never tasted anything so incredible in his entire life. He'd even voiced it amidst his amazement, to which his eleven-year-old best friend had been quick to disagree - saying something along the lines of "Yeh think _that's_ good? It's got nothin' on me mam's apple pie, let me tell you." And he did tell him, in nearly excruciating detail, how his mother's Christmas apple pie was to die for - maybe even literally, and that Dean ought to try it sometime if ever given the chance.

A problem that always persisted with that, was of course the separation of the two best friends every holiday season. And so it went on like that every Christmas at Hogwarts, Seamus telling him about what he was missing out on, and Dean actually starting to truly wish he was somehow able to finally decide that for himself. Dean had even suggested that Seamus bring some back to Hogwarts with him, but was ensured that it had to be fresh in order to get the full effect.

Until their fifth year, when his best mate suddenly approached Dean as he was sketching idly in one of the Gryffindor Common Room's oversized, red armchairs. Their last DA meeting before the holidays had just let out, and he was in need of the calming distraction.

"I got an idea." Was all that Seamus said at fist, peering over Dean's shoulder to get a look at the messy outline of the Hippogriff on his friend's worn sketchpad.

"Hmm?" Dean answered distractedly - it was rarely a _good_ thing when Seamus came to him uttering those very same words.

That reply hadn't satisfied him, naturally, and before Dean knew his friend was sitting right beside him - the armchair may be large, but it was _hardly_ meant for two people, as so kindly demonstrated by the way that Seamus' entire body squeezed up against his own - peering around him in a way that partially blocked his view of his drawing.

"I _said_ \- I got an idea," he repeated, eyebrows raised.

Dean sighed, giving in as he closed his sketchpad and offered his full attention to the Irish boy, shimmying slightly against Seamus' weight that was practically crushing his shoulder. He had learned long ago that it was no use in brushing him off, both figuratively _and_ literally.

"What is it?"

"So, get this - y'know how I tell yeh every year about me mam's pie, yeah?"

Of course. How could he forget? But Dean simply nodded, knowing all too well Seamus would continue without his verbal confirmation anyway.

"Well, I think I found a way for you t'finally try it. I mean, yeh're gonna have to talk to yehr parents first, of course, but I think it could actually work." The sheer enthusiasm present on Seamus' face was really something to behold, and Dean smiled in affection of it all.

"Oh yeah? How's that?" Dean asked, interest visibly peaked.

"Easy. You come to my house this Christmas. Not the _whole_ break, maybe just a few days at most, but I figured mam could pick us up at Kings Cross and take us both back t'Ireland, and then she can just Floo you back to your house afterwards."

That... actually wasn't a bad idea. Dean considered it silently for a moment. His parents were lenient people, and so he was sure they wouldn't mind him being gone for just another few days as long as he was home for the majority of winter break. Plus, he'd already gotten to know Seamus' mother a bit when she took him and Seamus to the Quidditch World Cup the year before, and his so his parents would probably not be so wary about the idea.

As far as Dean was concerned, there was no reason this _couldn't_ work. He'd always wanted to visit Seamus' place, after all, with all that his best friend has told him about their cozy little home in the Irish countryside. It would be interesting to see the place his best friend had grown up in, even more so when considering it was a magical household very unlike his own.

"Yeah," Deamus finally agreed, lighting up at the proposition. He was surprised Seamus had managed to stay quiet in the time it took him to consider it. "Yeah, I reckon that could definitely work."

Seamus outright beamed, practically springing up out of his seat in order to search around the Common Room for something. Before Dean had the chance to ask him what he was looking for, he'd already returned to instead sit on the arm of the large chair. In his hands was a simple piece of parchment, to which he promptly shoved in Dean's face.

"Here, yeh can write to them now."

Grinning, Dean didn't hesitate in taking it from his friend's hands, retrieving the pencil he'd settled away with his sketchbook and carefully smoothing the parchment across his knee. Seamus casually slipped from his seat on the chair arm to squeeze against Dean's side again, watching curiously as the taller boy began to write.

* * *

Seamus was right there by his side the morning his owl came back, breakfast soon forgotten as he excitedly read aloud the approving reply from his mother and father. And he was right by his side again on the train ride home, dozing lightly with his head rested on Dean's shoulder while Dean watched the snowy scenery pass by. The boy really didn't have much of a restriction for personal space. It was among one of the first things Dean had ever noticed about him all the way back in their first year.

As the train pulled into Platform 9 ¾, Dean carefully nudged Seamus awake, who went from zero to sixty in record speed. He truly didn't know anyone else who could go from completely idle to practically bouncing off the walls as quickly or dramatically as Seamus Finnigan did. He was nearly pushed out of the compartment by his best friend, who took the lead shortly after in search of his mum. They found her soon enough through the swarming crowd of reuniting students and parents, and she wasted no time at all in surging forward to wrap her only child in a bone-crushing hug.

The short, Irish woman was like Seamus in nearly every way. Enthusiastic and carefree, he took a liking to her from the very start, much the same as he had with her son. After releasing Seamus, she immediately moved to pull Dean into an equally hearty embrace.

"Good t'see you again, dear," she told him in her heavy brogue, and Dean didn't miss the way that Seamus positively beamed at the interaction between his mother and best friend.

They arrived to the Finnigan household shortly before sunset, and already Dean was in awe about the way things operated. Nearly everything was based around the use of magic, from the dishes washing themselves in the sink to the duster casually sweeping the mantle of the fireplace they just walked out of, it was like nothing Dean had ever seen before.

It was with great satisfaction that Dean registered the distinct sent of freshly baked apple pie the minute he stepped foot into the house.

Their cottage-style home - which was trimmed entirely from top to bottom in a rather impressive display of holiday decor - was the textbook definition of cozy, and Dean felt oddly at home almost immediately. He had initially been worried, given Seamus and his mother's view on Harry's situation from the influence of the Daily Prophet, but the two had yet to breathe a word of any of it, and Dean vaguely suspected it would stay that way.

Seamus was beside himself in showing Dean around, who'd quite literally dragged him around from room to room until they reached his tiny bedroom, and fell back onto his double bed entirely in sync. It was there that they both seemed to deflate, effectively spent after the day's heightened level of energy.

Ms. Finnigan poked her head in a moment later, her wide grin prominent on her soft features. "Pie's comin' yehr way in a second, boys - figured yeh both were just itchin' t'have some."

Turning to his side to face Dean, Seamus grinned from ear to ear. "Is yehr mind ready to be blown?"

"Definitely," Dean laughed, cut short by the arrival of the pie in question, quite literally coming their way as it floated through the open bedroom door in the form of two, considerably sized pieces on separate plates.

They sat up at once, Seamus hollering an - exceptionally loud - expression of thanks to his mum before getting up just long enough to shut the door. He all but crash landed back onto the bed, eyes glued to the levitating dessert as he took the two plates in hand.

But instead of handing one to Dean, he paused. A brief look that Dean could not placed crossed his friend's features for a split second, gone as soon as it came, replaced by a rather smug grin.

"Well, if we're gonna do this, might as well do it right."

Dean was about to ask just what he meant by that, when Seamus promptly turned himself to face him, setting one plate on the nightstand next to his bed and scooting so close that their knees touched. Forking off a piece of the pie, his gaze on Dean's face proved so intent that it actually made the taller boy flush.

"Do you trust me?" Though his grin remained, the look in Seamus' eyes were sincere, and Dean swallowed thickly. He wasn't entirely sure what his best friend was planning, but he had a _pretty_ good idea.

"Yeah," he answered, finally, forcing himself to meet Seamus' unwavering stare. They seemed to subconsciously lean closer to one another, and Dean's suspicion was confirmed all at once as the fork was brought right up to his face.

He blinked at it for a moment, and breathing deep though his nose, leaned forward the rest of the way to close his mouth around the fork. As he chewed, he was forced to squash the passing thought that other best mates surely didn't do things like _feeding_ each other. But this was Seamus, and nothing proved strange him anymore.

Then, all thought was lost entirely as he registered the taste on his tongue, his eyes darting up to Seamus' face. His friend's grin was gone, replaced with a look that was searching and expecting at the same time, until Dean hummed in approval, and the corners of his friend's mouth tugged upwards again.

"So? Was I right, or what?" Either Seamus had forgotten the other plate that sat on the bedside table, or he was intent on causing Dean the most anguish he could manage, for he instead simply scooped up another bite and stuck the very same fork right into his own mouth. And if that wasn't bad enough, he lingered there far longer than necessary, licking the utensil clean in such a way that Dean was now _positive_ he was doing on purpose.

The heat the skittered across his face was so intense, that there was no doubt in his mind that Seamus was able to see it despite the dimly lit room and Dean's dark skin. He hadn't realized he'd been staring with his mouth open until Seamus laughed, raising an amused eyebrow in Dean's direction. He didn't know it was possible for them to get any closer until Seamus did just that, noses mere inches from each other, their adjoined, quickening breaths mingling.

They seemed to come to a mutual agreement at the same moment, a sort of understanding that they didn't need to voice. It was how it always was between the two - as if they could read each other's minds without having to think twice about it.

Suddenly remembering that Seamus had asked him about his verdict on the pie, Dean sucked in a breath before answering. "Yeah... yeah, you were definitely right."

Apparently, that was all the encouragement Seamus needed before he was rushing forward to press their lips together, tentative in nature yet overwhelmingly sure, the lightest of touches more than enough to have Dean's mind _reeling_.

All in all, it turned out Seamus hadn't been exaggerating - his mum's apple pie really was the best he's ever had. But it was _nothing_ compared to how it tasted on his best friend's lips.


	8. Tinsel

A sort of no-war AU, where Voldemort was permanently defeated by Harry the first time around, that takes place in the boys' seventh year.

* * *

Anyone who had thought that NEWTs wouldn't be all that much harder than their fifth year OWLs had all but been slapped in the face once seventh year rolled around. Dean had, with the most utter misfortune, been one of those people, and had spent nearly the entire day for the fifth day in the row that week invested in a hefty stack of textbooks at the library.

He was forced to call it quits once curfew approached, retiring his studies and grudgingly making his way up the moving staircase towards the Fat Lady's portrait. He'd nearly forgotten the password in his state of exhaustion - really, the only thing that even kept him going was the strong desire to see his Irish lad of a boyfriend - though the wake up call that came next was so unexpected that Dean thought for a moment that he had somehow managed to already fall asleep and been thrown into some sort of bizarre dream.

The Gryffindor Common Room was _covered_ in a silvery sort of material, to such an extreme that the familiar warm tones of reds and golds could hardly be seen anymore. It hang from the ceiling, coated the upholstery, littered the floor, and it took a moment before Dean realized that it was... tinsel?

As if on cue, a certain sandy-haired head popped up from behind an armchair next to the portrait hole, and Dean didn't have time to ask before he was dragged - literally - into the mess with a shout of, "Get down!"

"Blimey, Shay," Dean grumbled, though remained hidden behind the cover of the large chair that _should_ have been red rather than silver. He got his first good look of his boyfriend, who like the rest of the room had a considerable amount of tinsel hanging off of him, sticking out of his tousled hair and poking out of his clothes. "What's going on here?"

Seamus was intensely focused on peering around the chair, hands still firmly on Dean's shoulders as if he feared he'd stand up again. "Someone brought in a bunch of this weird, muggle decoration stuff. Nigel got a hold of it, started throwing it around and, well - yeh can see what happened after that."

"Right... and we're hiding because-?"

"Yeh were in direct line of fire! It's an full blown _war_ out there, mate."

"Of course."

Sighing, Dean couldn't help but to suddenly grin. Perhaps it was simply the sleep deprivation, though Seamus _did_ look nothing short of adorable with tinsel sticking to his exertion flushed, freckled cheeks, casting his entire face in a silvery shimmer. Besides, it _was_ a nice distraction away from his NEWT worries.

He reached out suddenly, he plucked a few, fine strips of silver from Seamus' hair. The act was futile, of course - there had to be _hundreds_ of pieces left - but it prompted the shorter male to look at him, and he wore a sort of crazed expression that Dean couldn't help but to laugh at.

"All right, so what's the plan? What're we dealing with?" His compliance to play along with this charade was met with the widest of grins on Seamus' part, drawing one of his hands away from Dean's shoulder. Even crouched down like this, Dean practically towered above him.

"Not sure. I lost track of everyone's position after Ron got me in the face."

Well, that certainly explained his current appearance. Dean's was about to try and formulate a plan when Seamus peered around the corner again, and all hell suddenly broke loose.

Somebody had apparently caught sight of him, and with one thrown ball of tinsel came a chain reaction of endless others, everyone springing from their cover at seemingly the exact same time. The sheer intensity on Seamus' features was truly remarkable as he jumped up, pulling Dean along with him as he fired fistful after fistful of glittering decor towards the nearest Gryffindor.

Sleep effectively gone from his eyes, Dean was quick to join in by Seamus' side. They worked like partners in dire battle, back to back, covering one another whenever somebody else got too close. Dean had gotten a few good hits in before everyone seemed to simultaneously tire, giving up one by one until they had all collapsed against the tinsel-buried furniture.

Now equally covered from head to toe, Dean fell back onto the couch with his arms spread along the back, bits and pieces of silver sent flying in the air before slowly settling down again. Seamus followed suit shortly after, plopping down on the couch next to Dean and automatically leaning into him. Dean responded easily by draping an arm around his shoulders, and Seamus in turn rested his head on Dean's chest. They were well past the point of hiding their affection - besides, their fellow housemates had long assumed they were together before they ever, _actually_ were.

"Remind me how old we are again," Dean hummed in amusement. The younger years at least had an excuse for such behavior - seventh years, however, not so much.

"Seventeen - as if _that_ really matters. Figured you of all people could use the distraction - been holed up in that library all day again, I see." Seamus' voice hadn't been accusing, though Dean felt a mild pang of guilt all the same for blowing him off again for the majority of the day.

"M'sorry, love," he mumbled apologetically into the side of Seamus' head, pressing the lightest of kisses there as his arm tightened around the smaller boy's shoulders.

Seamus simply waved a dismissive hand before dropping it down to rest atop Dean's thigh, absentmindedly brushing away a few bits of tinsel from his boyfriend's jeans. "Nah, don't worry about it. Besides, I should be doing the same thing, right?"

"Still," Dean interjected, moving his mouth so his voice could be properly heard. "How about I make it up to you tomorrow? It's the weekend, after all, we could always make a trip to Hogsmeade or something."

"Sure yeh can afford to miss out? Yeh've only been studying the _entire_ week," Seamus said, tone light and teasing as he pinched gently at Dean's knee.

Dean huffed out a laugh, sliding his other arm from the back of the couch while a lazy smile tugged at his lips, feeling his previous sleepiness gradually beginning to return. Taking Seamus' hand in his own, he softly ran his thumb over the backs of his pale knuckles.

"Suppose I can make an exception for you, yeah," He quipped back, pressing his cheek to the top of Seamus' tinsel-covered head. Seamus simply snorted, flipping his hand over underneath Dean's light touch so that he could intertwine their fingers together.

"Yeh better. Otherwise I might just have t'go off and find a _better_ boyfriend."

Dean pulled away with a smirk, trailing the hand on Seamus' shoulder down to grip the side of his jaw and force his face towards his own. Instead of retorting some sort of witty comment, he simply pressed forward and kissed him soundly.

And even if McGonagall would surely lose her mind should she find even a _trace_ of the mess that buried the Common Room the following morning, for now, all was well at Hogwarts.


	9. Ice Skating

It was a bad idea from the start, Seamus was already thoroughly convinced. Besides, he was naturally clumsy at the best of times, but to add _ice_ to the mix? It was surely a recipe for disaster, he could feel it in his bones.

But Dean was adamant, and after the way he had come to Seamus with the proposition as if it was the single, greatest idea he'd ever had, the sheer, childlike excitement on his fiancé's dimpled cheeks was simply too much to refuse. He'd also made the effort to assure him that he'd taught all three of his little sisters to skate, and Seamus had to refrain from pointing out that they most definitely weren't _nearly_ as vertically challenged as he was.

The muggle skating rink Dean ultimately dragged him to had undoubtedly seen better days, and if the looks of things suggested anything at all, it wouldn't come as any surprise if it shut down the very next day. But ice was ice, and the place held personal meaning to Dean, who had frequented the small arena as a child with his family.

Seamus supposed the fact they were essentially alone besides another young couple was nothing but a bonus - less people to witness him repeatedly falling on his arse, of course.

They rented their skates at the front desk from a grungy looking teenager who barely gave them a second look away from his handheld device - a cell-fone, or _something_. Seamus couldn't remember the muggle term for the thing. Inspecting his pair of skates closely, it did bring Seamus a certain level of comfort - even if only a very small amount - that they appeared to be in relatively good shape, all things considered.

Seamus, frankly having no idea how to properly tie a skate, naturally had Dean do it for him, the couple seated upon a bench beside the main entrance to the rink. It was an outdoor facility, and it was unseasonably cold in downtown London for this time of year. Tugging his hat down further over his ears to shield out the cold, Seamus was sure that with their rather dramatic height difference, and the way that Seamus was so thickly bundled up, it wouldn't be hard to mistake them for a father and son duo.

He resisted the urge to grumble at that, far less than thrilled to be here at all. But Dean still wore that same, kid-like grin that had convinced him to agree in the first place, and that was enough to keep him from acting out.

Once Dean was finished with trying his skates tight, Seamus stood, and was horrified as he almost toppled over immediately. If it was this difficult to stand up now, how in the bloody hell was he supposed to do it on _ice_?

Though Dean already had a sure hold on his upper arms, and Seamus held onto his elbows for dear life as he was aided in regaining his balance. Sending his boyfriend an incredulous look, Dean seemed to read his mind without the need for Seamus' rather _colorful_ commentary.

"I'll guide you through it, Shay, don't worry. The first step onto the ice is admittedly a bit, uh - _intimidating_ , but I won't let you fall, all right?"

That was far more than Dean could promise, Seamus thought bitterly, but he nodded nonetheless, taking a few experimental steps on the rubber mat leading out towards the rink's entrance - and, almost dragged Dean down with him when he stumbled again. Dean's jacket would surely have his hand prints molded into it permanently after it was all said and done with.

Dean's next instructions were very guarded, and Seamus almost wanted to smack him for it. "Look, I'll go out first, circle around - get a feel for the ice, you know? And then I'll come back for you. Just hang onto the rail here until then."

"It's not like I'm bloody goin' anywhere else, am I?" Seamus couldn't help but to bite back, reluctantly letting go of Dean's sleeves to grip at the railing instead, sighing as he fought back his temper.

Though Dean remained unfazed, simply chuckling as he ensured Seamus had a good grip before stepping away from him completely. "It'll be fine - I'll be right back." He made sure to bend down to give Seamus a quick, almost apologetic kiss, before turning and skating out onto the ice.

Seamus was in a state awe from the minute Dean's skates touched the ice, watching him glide with a particular grace he'd never quite seen from him before. Despite having told Seamus it had been many years since he'd gone ice skating, he was clearly in his element, and it was no less than stunningly _beautiful_. He felt his anger slowly slipping away as he watched his fiancé skate around the rink's edges, mouth slacking in his amazement.

When Dean came back around to where he still stood shakily against the rail, Seamus was quick to question him. "I thought yeh said it's been _years_ since yeh've skated?"

"It has," he confirmed, reaching his arms out for Seamus to take again. "It's kind of like riding a bike, I suppose - you just... remember."

"No kidding," Seamus muttered, now completely focused on taking his own first step onto the ice after he'd firmly taken a hold of Dean's sleeves. He focused on steadying his breathing, and he felt more grateful than ever that the young couple they'd seen before were now leaving through the second entrance on the opposite side of the rink.

"Slow and steady, now. I've got you, love." Dean's voice was so sickeningly sweet that Seamus somehow felt irritated and guilty at the same time. He truly wanted to do this for him, to make him _happy_ , and yet he still felt immensely frustrated with it all. He'd come this far, though, and he wasn't about to turn back now.

That mindset ran for the hills - screaming, no less - the moment Seamus actually, finally stepped onto the ice, for he _instantly_ lost his balance and slipped backwards. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he most certainly would have cracked his skull open if it weren't for Dean's lightning quick reflexes as he quickly pulled him back. Gaelic flew out of his mouth amidst his panic, and not even _he_ was sure what he had said, though he was very well aware that Dean was already laughing at him.

"See, I told you I wasn't gonna let you fall," he said far too cheerfully, helping Seamus stand up straight now that they were both on the ice and Seamus had recovered from his almost-fall.

Okay, so he _had_ managed to successfully keep that part of his bargain true - so far, anyway, and Seamus huffed out a ragged breath as his gloved fingers dug deeper into Dean's arms.

"Yeah, _thanks_ ," he couldn't help but to mumble sarcastically, inwardly cursing his own Gryffindor tendencies as he again tried to take another gliding step. This time did prove less catastrophic, even if he was just as wobbly as ever, and Seamus leaned all his weight into Dean.

They carried on like that for what seemed like an eternity - Seamus repeatedly almost falling, then cursing as Dean caught him, and Dean simply smiling and assuring him that he was doing fine. It was a lie, of course - the only reason he _hadn't_ fallen was solely because of Dean's guiding hands keeping him - mostly - upright.

But eventually, their grip on each other started to loosen, and while neither removed their hands from each other completely, Seamus could say with the utmost certainty that he was actually, really _skating_. Help from Dean or not, he was indeed moving along with him as Dean skated backwards, their speed increasing little by little until Seamus was barely stumbling at all, and he became more and more confident with each stride.

Dean seemed to declare it break time right around the moment that Seamus actually started to smile along with him, pulling him over to the benches that lined around the outer sides of the rink and helping him off the ice. They sank to their seats with matching sighs, finally able to let go of each other, and Seamus was positive Dean would have bruises in his forearms for _weeks_ to come.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Dean said, leaning in close to Seamus' face with a rather smug grin plastered on his face.

"Speak for yehrself. Would'a bloody well killed myself if you weren't there."

"How d'you think I learned? It's all a process, Shay."

"Maybe when yeh're a _child_ \- not so much in yehr twenties."

Dean waved a dismissive hand, then patted Seamus on the knee. "You did great, really. No harm done, right?"

Sighing through his nose, Seamus knew it would be no use to argue with him. It could have been a lot worse, surely, and while he'd never admit it, it _had_ been nearing the edge of fun once he had successfully managed to get his bearings.

Though the grin on his own face was hard to suppress, even as he shrugged his shoulders with a curt, " _Whatever_."

That seemed to satisfy Dean enough, since he didn't hesitate one bit in slinging an arm around Seamus' shoulders and pulling him in close to deliver a firm, sloppy kiss to his cheek. Seamus was relatively easy to divulge, turning his head and connecting their lips in a surprisingly appreciative kiss considering his sore attitude mere moments ago.

It was a simple truth that he'd do just about anything to make Dean happy, as so efficiently demonstrated by what he'd be sure to blow out of proportion to describe as a near death experience in the future.

Dean was his _world_ , and if something as simple as ice skating would please him to any extent, Seamus would endure any amount of pain and suffering to do that for him.


	10. Frost

The minute Dean had woken up and peered outside the window of the Gryffindor tower, the sight he was met with was simply too great to pass up on. It was early December, and before the snow had a chance to fall, the grounds had been covered overnight with a thin, delicate layer of frost.

It sparkled and glistened underneath the morning sunlight in such a way that captured the eye of the fifth year's inner artist, and grabbing his art supplies, he didn't even stop for breakfast before making his way outside into the crisp, cool air.

Clutching the strap of his shoulder bag tightly as he hurried his way down the hill towards the Black Lake, Dean knew he had limited time to get set up before the sun rose higher and the frost melted away.

What he didn't know, was that he was being followed. For not ten feet away, another figure bounced down along the include behind him, though unlike Dean's quick, yet steady footsteps, this one occasionally slipped on the slick, crystal coated grass and almost lost balance on the way down.

Finally, Dean had reached the large oak tree in front of the lake that he'd been using as an art post for years, brushing off the frozen layer on a familiar, flattened root that served very well as a makeshift seat. Sitting down with his back turned to the castle, he carefully took out his sketchpad and colored pencils from his bag.

It took him a moment to get properly situated - he'd only need a limited amount of colors this time, the usual bright greens of grass and deep browns of earth hidden beneath the blues and whites of winter's touch. He studied the area in front of him with unwavering focus, sizing up the way the icy ground precisely reflected the sun's rays so that he'd get it just right when translating it onto paper. He'd _just_ touched his pencil to his sketchpad, when-

"What'cha drawin' this time, mate?"

Dean jumped nearly a foot in the air, the sudden, sharp movement sending his pencil skidding across the parchment where it left a dark, ugly line. His head whipped around towards the voice, which he'd easily been able to recognize despite his fright.

"Blimey, Seamus. Way to scare me half to death," he exclaimed, exhaling a deep breath as he stared up at his best friend, who simply grinned down at him in false innocence.

"Well, _sorry_ \- I just noticed yeh'd left without eating breakfast, figured I'd bring a little something down. _Excuse me_ for carin', yeh git." Sure enough, in Seamus' hand was a simple slice of buttered toast, which he held out in Dean's direction.

The gesture was easily enough to draw a smile out of Dean, reaching out to accept the bit of toast before making quick work in devouring it - apparently in his hurry, he'd overlooked how hungry he apparently was. "Thanks," he said around a mouthful of bread, to which Seamus simply hummed and dropped down to sit atop the broad, root of a seat next to Dean.

"By the way - y'still didn't answer my question," Seamus pointed out once he'd gotten himself comfortable, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets to shield them from the nippy air.

"Oh, right," Dean started as he remembered the inquiry that had jolted him in the first place, turning his gaze down to the bit of parchment in his lap with the realization he'd need to use magic to properly rid of that thick, extraneous line. "See - notice how the sun reflects off of the frost, there?" he tried to explain, leaning close to Seamus and extending a finger towards the icy ground. "I'm gonna try to capture that."

Seamus made a noise of understanding, eyes following Dean's finger where it pointed to the whitened grass, which was very much the same as what he had slipped on numerous times during his trek down the hill. "Well, don't let me interfere with that. Unless - unless yeh _want_ me to leave you alone, of course..."

Dean was quick to assure him otherwise. "No, no, it's fine. You can stay," he told him softly, reaching into his bag for his wand. It took a second of digging around before he finally pulled it out, and with a gentle flick of his wrist - paired with the mumble of a simple removal spell - the paper was clean once more.

Resting his back against the trunk of the tree, Dean surveyed the landscape for another brief moment. He was running tight on time, the sun steadily climbing in the cloudless sky, though he figured he still had just enough left to at least get a general concept finished.

As normally chatty and overactive his best friend was, Seamus knew to keep quiet when Dean was concentrating on his drawings, no matter how difficult that may be. Sketches may be punctuated by idle conversation, though when Dean broke out coloring materials such as paints or pastels - and in this case, his coloring pencils - it went without saying that he needed the silence to properly focus.

So, the Irish boy simply crossed his legs, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his palm as he watched Dean work. After being friends for so long, it didn't bother Dean nearly as much as it used to when Seamus hovered like this. In fact, nowadays he'd go as far as saying it was _comforting_ , in an odd sort of way. Seamus never judged or criticized his work, and he could always tell that his friend held genuine interest and awe for his art just by looking at the expression on his face.

Which was what Dean did, turning his eyes up so that he could survey Seamus' features. The shorter male was leaned slightly forward, eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted as his fingers tapped absentmindedly against his jaw. His cheeks were tinted pink from the cold, the color stark against his pale skin as it ghosted in between the array of freckles that sat high upon his cheekbones and spread along the bridge of his nose.

In that moment, there was no wondering how he'd so easily managed to fall in love with his best friend.

Seamus had likely noticed the stilling of Dean's right hand over the parchment in his lap, for in the next moment his gaze suddenly shifted upwards, and met directly with Dean's transfixed eyes. Although Dean instinctively looked away, Seamus - being Seamus - simply couldn't resist commenting on the discovery that Dean had quite obviously been staring at him.

"I thought yeh were supposed to be drawing the _frost_ ," he grinned in his signature cheeky, overconfident way, chin slowly raising from the palm of his hand.

Dean blushed far deeper than anything he could blame on the cold temperatures, wiping his nose with the edge of his sleeve in a forced attempt to be casual. "I _am_."  
He hoped it would never be brought to Seamus' knowledge of how many times he had actually, secretly drawn him over the years.

But of course, Seamus wouldn't be so easily persuaded. Nor did he feel the courtesy of simply letting it go, apparent in how he grinned impossibly wider and sat up to lean ever-so-slightly closer.

"It's all right, Dean. I like bein' yehr main focus."

 _Presumptuous ass_ , Dean thought offhandedly, and lightly knocked his shoulder into Seamus with a grin despite his flustered appearance, muttering a mild, "Oh, shove off."

Though as he turned back to the frosted landscape before them, it all suddenly seemed far less captivating than it had before. It lacked the luster that had been there just moments ago, and no matter how hard Dean tried, he simply could not get the image of those rosy, freckled cheeks out of his mind.

And so it came with great hesitation that Dean turned his eyes away from the glittering scene, focusing entirely on Seamus instead, who sent him a rather quizzical look.

"You like being my focus? Fine. I'll draw _you_ , then."

That did a fine job in wiping away Seamus' arrogance, his face falling flat as he opened and closed his mouth several times before managing to find the right words. "But - really? I mean, if you _want_ to, I'd be - uh - I'm okay with that."

Dean enjoyed the tables turning far more than he probably should, relishing in the way that Seamus was now the one who was visibly flustered. He grinned with a surprising amount of vanity, turning the rest of his body so that he was properly facing his best mate.

"Just stay exactly as you are - well, if you _can_ , that is." The Irish lad was famous for his inability to sit still, after all, though he was oddly quiet now, his fidgeting hands stilling where they rested atop his knees.

"Um, okay. So long as yeh don't muck up my dashing good looks." Ah, there he was again. Though his voice came off a tad more tentative than usual, and even so, the small smile that graced his lips was entirely genuine.

Dean returned his smile in earnest, flipping back his discarded sketch to start with a fresh new page. He looked over his friend's features with obvious fondness, chuckling softly as he pressed his pencil to the blank canvas.

"Nah... I don't think that's possible."


	11. Eggnog

It was destined for disaster, that much was for certain. And even at twenty-five - and a still relatively new father to a four-month-old baby boy, no less - Seamus Finnigan still lacked maturity in all the right places. Or rather, the _wrong_ places, as to be proven oh-so graciously in his most recent attempt at spreading holiday cheer.

Eggnog had been a part of his family tradition for as long as he could remember. He could recall from his very earliest of memories drinking the festive drink with his mother at Christmastime, who still to this day made it the absolute best out of anyone he knew.

And he just might have been satisfied to simply run to the store in search of the store-bought version they stacked on their shelves every year - they did just that every other Christmas, after all - however this year was vastly different.

This year they had a child, and this year Seamus was fully intent on doing things the old fashioned way with the desire of making it a yearly tradition for his own little family, just as he'd took part in while growing up.

Dean was due back from work any minute now, and with their son sleeping peacefully in his crib a few rooms over, Seamus figured now was as good a time as any to get started.

Now, contrary to his certain, rather _long_ track record regarding fire-related incidents, it would come as a surprise to most to learn that Seamus was rather talented when it came to working his way around the kitchen. He'd discovered his passion for cooking shortly after leaving Hogwarts, and while he was talented, that didn't exactly mean he was the most _organized_ about it.

In fact, their kitchen seemed to be consumed in a state of disarray each and every time the Irishman decided to use his particular set of cooking skills. Even their ability to use magic as a _normally_ easy way of cleaning things up was often drawn out into a long and tedious process considering the grave extent of the mess.

Which was exactly what Dean came home to that particular day. Seamus had successfully found the eggnog recipe his mother had given to him a few years back, and was waving his wand around at an array of bowls and utensils with the sleeves of his sweater rolled up past his elbows.

The counters were dripping with cream and cinnamon - even the overhead cabinets sported a splash of _something_ or another, not even Seamus was sure what it was, exactly - and he had to continuously dodge the bits of cracked egg shells that littered the tiled floor.

"Oh, good, yehr home. Hey, do me a favor and go get Aeden, yeah? He woke up just a second ago, but I'm a bit, uh - _incapacitated_ at the moment."

He realized that incapacitated was probably putting it far too lightly, for the look that Dean sent him next was so intense that it actually made him stop what he was doing.

"I know, I know, it's a mess. I'll clean it up myself after, promise," he said quickly in his own defense, though it did nothing to change the bewildered expression on his husband's face.

"Seamus - _no_." The despair that Dean's voice held would have probably been hilarious had Seamus not been so preoccupied with using his wand to vigorously beat the dozen egg yolks inside one of the large, glass bowls hovering in front of him.

He was about to open his mouth to assure Dean that it was fine, really, when a still newly familiar, high-pitched wail floating down the hallway drew them both away from the mess, and Seamus gave a pointed look towards Dean.

Dean opened his mouth to say something else, before sighing and apparently giving up on whatever was on his mind in favor of muttering a defeated, "I'll go get him."

"Thanks, love," Seamus grinned, yet didn't quite miss the twitch of Dean's own lips as he turned away to get their son.

Thanks to the aid of magic, Seamus had both heated and chilled the mixture of ingredients by the time that Dean returned, a pajama clad Aedan in his arms. The little boy was as pleasant as always despite the cry they'd heard earlier, smiling ear to ear while clapping his tiny hands. Dean had, for the most part, lost his dumbfounded expression, to instead be replaced with the fondest of looks as he gazed down at their son.

Pouring two glasses of freshly made nog, Seamus approached them with an apologetic smile of sorts on his face. He pinched gently at Aedan's cheek, which earned a small giggle in reply, then leaned up to press a kiss to the side of Dean's mouth.

"Sorry about the mess... again," he chuckled, handing Dean the cup as if to try and help plead his case. As he always told him, the result of his cooking did its job in making up for it.

" _Sure_ you are," Dean quipped, eyebrow raised as he reached out with his free hand to take the drink, though the smile that graced his lips held the telltale sign of forgiveness.

"It's just that... it's our first Christmas with Aedan, y'know? I want to make it special, do things we'll always remember, and-"

Dean leaned down and effectively silenced him with a kiss, which was interrupted shortly after by a sudden, sharp tugging of Seamus' hair. Seamus pulled back with a laugh, taking Aedan's hand in his to try and force the baby's surprisingly powerful grip away from his scalp.

"You know, he's every bit as stubborn as you are," Dean chuckled, just as Seamus had managed to succeed in his efforts, and pressed a loud kiss to Aedan's chubby little fingers.

Seamus grinned, and without so much as another word, reached up to bring Dean's face down into another kiss, as if to make up for the first one getting cut short. When he pulled away, he murmured, voice low and full of sentiment, "Merry Christmas, Dean."

His grin was soon matched in size and intensity from his husband, who pecked him once more before nodding softly. "Merry Christmas, Shay."


	12. Cider

I'm a bit behind schedule, sooo have a jealous Dean and public frottage to make up for it? ;w;

* * *

He'd never gotten drunk on cider before. Admittedly, it wasn't the _greatest_ thing in the world to get drunk on - at least, the stuff served at the tacky, muggle gay bar Seamus had dragged him to wasn't. It was almost sickly sweet, and Dean had the faintest suspicion that it had been poorly made, if the condition the pub was in was anything to go by. But it was all the bar was serving that night in honor of it being Christmas Eve (and in all truths, it was likely all they could afford), and Dean supposed it did its job well enough. Besides, after his fourth or fifth glass, it really didn't matter all that much anymore.

In fact, after he'd accepted his sixth glass - or fifth, he really had lost count - from the bartender who kept sending him suggestive looks, it actually began to taste rather _good_. Seamus surely wasn't complaining, who was more than ecstatic to be able to give Dean all the public affection he could manage for a change _without_ getting judging stares from passersby.

The only downside, was Seamus' certain energy level. High at the best of times, it only skyrocketed under the influence of alcohol, and if Dean had learned anything from his albeit limited experiences in gay bars, it was that other men very much liked that sort of vitality. They seemed to approach him from every angle, and while Dean knew with the utmost confidence that Seamus would never accept their advantages, it still bothered him all the same.

Though the upside to his downside was that it simply gave him all the more excuse to keep him close. Keeping the smaller Irishman pressed into his side, frequently stealing a influx of heavy kisses to his lips - or jaw, or ear, or neck - seemed to keep the onlookers mostly at bay. Tonight, however, proved to be a different story altogether.

Seamus had just left towards the bar to get himself another drink - the first mistake, when looking back on the situation later on. Idling near one of the many strobe lights that flashed red and green in all its festivities, Dean was sipping casually on his glass of cider when he noticed him.

A strapping young man hanging at the bar, clad head to toe in black, locked his sights onto Seamus the minute he'd spotted him. There was nothing subtle in the way that he sized him up, and licking slowly over his parted lips, waited until Seamus was done ordering to both physically and verbally approach him.

Usually, Seamus was rather gracious in brushing them off. He'd do it politely, sometimes even thanked them for their consideration, and that would be it. Though Dean could tell that something was off the instant he saw Seamus' cheerful, smiling face fall, and even though the poorly lit area didn't account for much of a proper observation from this distance, he could see well enough the hand that was creeping its way down Seamus' back.

Half-finished cider forgotten on the nearest table, Dean took all of two seconds to cross the room. His gut lurched as he noticed he'd still been a fraction too late, eyes burning holes into the hand that had roughly groped his boyfriend's ass to forcibly pull him into that broad, muscular chest.

His presence actually startled Seamus as he slid his arm around the shorter man's shoulders, pulling him away faster than anyone could blink an eye. The imposing man seemed unphased, and now that Dean was up close, it was blatantly obvious that he was so intoxicated that he could barely stand up.

"There a problem, here?" Dean asked as casually as he could, voice raising above the blare of gritty music from cheap speakers overhead.

"Oh, m'sorry - he yours?" the man slurred, leaning all his weight on the elbow that rested on the bar top as he peered ahead at Dean. Even hunched over the way he was, it came with great realization to Dean that he still hovered at least a few inches above him.

Dean nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. Seamus remained uncharacteristically quiet, his hand almost hesitant in nature as it clutched at Dean's back. "Yeah, he is."

The man laughed, a barking, hollow laugh that held no true humor. "Well, that's a fuckin' shame. Was jus' tellin' him how-"

"I don't need to hear what you were telling him," Dean cut in coolly, tightening his hand where it rested on Seamus' shoulder. The fact that his normally chatty boyfriend had yet to speak one word was making him terribly uneasy.

"Woah, _woah_ \- easy now. No need to get all hot an' bothered. Was just bein' friendly, is all; isn't that right, baby?" His words were followed by that same, unsettling laugh as he stared down at Seamus. With the addition of the unsettling pet name, Dean decided that was more than enough.

"Right. Well, if you don't _mind_ , I think we'll be leaving now."

Dean didn't allow time for the man to answer before pulling Seamus away without waiting around for his order to arrive, and didn't hesitate in leading him right for the front door to grab their coats. He felt the burn of jealousy stronger than he ever had in his entire life, fingers digging into Seamus' side where they had relocated from his shoulder.

"I paid for that drink," Seamus finally mumbled, sounding oddly sober despite the considerable number of cider beverages he'd consumed. Dean bit his lip.

"I'm sorry, but - but I didn't want you around that guy any longer than I could help it."

The way that Dean's eyes darted back and forth to Seamus and said man made him look wild, he was sure of it. But he _felt_ wild in that very moment, and it took every bit of restraint he had in him not to all but attack Seamus' mouth right then and there.

Then he realized, somehow having forgotten along the way - this was a gay bar, and nobody would so much as give them a second look if he were to do just that. Jealously overtaking him, the alcohol in his system provoking it before he could suppress it, and he backed Seamus right into the corner where the wall was lined with other people's jackets and scarves.

The questioning look that Seamus gave him was extinguished the moment that he caught Dean's eyes flashing back to the man at the bar, and he exhaled a deep breath, the faintest of smiles quirking at the corner of his mouth.

"That's not _jealously_ I see in those eyes of yours, now is it, Dean?" he whispered, smile steadily growing into a grin with each passing second.

But all Dean could see in the back of his head was that brute's hands on Seamus. His Seamus, and he let out a sound from his throat that sounded shockingly similar to a growl. It was enough to wipe the grin from Seamus' face, and before he knew it, he'd crushed his lips down onto the smaller man's.

"Mine," he kept murmuring against Seamus' mouth, not wasting any time in hiking his knee between Seamus' thighs and swallowing his resulting hitching breath. His hands went straight for his ass, grabbing and squeezing vigorously as if to wipe away any residual traces of the previous, unfamiliar touch.

It was unlike him to be so aggressive so quickly, but he supposed the mixture of alcohol and possessiveness was a dangerous one. Seamus seemed more than pleased with it, moaning hotly into Dean's apple-flavored mouth as he rutted down into the thigh that spread his legs open. Dean could feel that he was growing hard already even though the thick material of his jeans, and he nipped hard at the Irishman's bottom lip.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of passionate snogging and eager grinding against one another, Dean forced him to tear his mouth away from where it was busy sucking an angry, red mark against the pale, stubbled skin on Seamus' neck.

"Need to get you home now - need you so fucking _bad_ ," he groaned, and it was with the most reluctance that he untangled himself from Seamus just long enough to grab their coats.

But instead of taking the time to put them on, he simply dragged Seamus by the hand out the bar's main door and into the snow. It was briskly cold, but Dean knew they wouldn't be facing the harsh elements for long. Keeping a firm hold on Seamus' hand, Dean hurriedly lead them around the corner of the pub into a dark alleyway.

Shortly thereafter, the sharp crack of apparition was the only thing that could be heard cutting through the silence of the downtown London street.


	13. Peppermint

"Not _more_ peppermint desserts."

Amused, Seamus lifted his head from the Christmas card his mother had sent him early in favor of smiling at his exasperated boyfriend. It wasn't that Dean didn't _like_ peppermint, but even he had to agree himself - Hogwarts did go a bit overboard every year with the festive flavor, and despite it being the sixth year in a row of the very same dilemma, Dean couldn't help but to complain all over again.

"Oh, yeh know how they get. Enough is never enough," Seamus said, though it did nothing to console Dean, who had resorted to sulking over the excessive amount of peppermint related things that had appeared in front of them yet again under the snowy sky of the Great Hall.

"Be thankful it's not fruitcake or something terrible," added Ron around a mouthful of peppermint cheesecake, apparently perfectly content in the choice of dessert. As usual, Hermione looked far less than pleased with him as she watched him stuff far more food than what was truly necessary into his mouth.

"He's right," piped up Neville, who himself was scooping a copious amount of peppermint ice cream onto his plate. "My Gran makes us fruitcake every year - it's _awful_ , really."

Dean simply sighed, offering Seamus a rather pitiful look that Seamus couldn't help but to affectionately roll his eyes at. Grabbing for the taller boy's hand, he laced their fingers together and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Don't pout, love. There's nothin' _I_ can do about it," Seamus smiled, and as if to lighten Dean's mood, reached across the table to drag his finger through the whipped cream that sat piled up on pie. Gathering a good amount, he drew his hand back, and without missing a beat, wiped it right down across Dean's nose.

Drawing back in his surprise, Dean nearly fell right out of his seat, which earned a chorus of laughter from their surrounding friends. Still having a firm hold of his hand, Seamus helped him regain his balance with an _almost_ sheepish grin on his face. Dean was laughing too, until he licked a bit of whipped cream away from his top lip where it had fallen from his nose, and his expression suddenly turned rather startled.

"Aw, no way! Even the bloody _whipped cream_ is peppermint flavored!"

Seamus nearly doubled over with another round of laughter, and feeling suddenly bold, leaned forward to kiss the whipped cream right off of Dean's mouth. Besides, it wasn't as if it was news to the other Gryffindors, nor did they mind the nature of their relationship. They were all extraordinarily supportive, in fact, and were all more than used to Seamus' public affection even _before_ he started dating Dean.

Dean, however, never failed to blush each and every time Seamus decided to kiss him in the presence of other people. It was no secret to anyone that it was one of the main reasons the Irish boy did it with increasing frequency.

"What?" Seamus asked innocently. " _I_ like peppermint, y'know."

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes this time, and he wiped the rest of the mess from his face with his hand. "Do you, now? Well, why didn't you say so sooner?"

With that, he reached out and smeared the whipped cream all over Seamus' cheeks, and Seamus let go of his hand to grab at his wrist instead.

"Oi! _Dean_!" he cried, scrunching up his face. As much as he tried, he simply couldn't suppress his laughter.

He was just about to retaliate when their Head of House strode by as if on cue, clearing her throat with her eyebrows raised as she sensed the impending food fight. Seamus stopped dead in his tracks, grabbing instead for a napkin, an action that seemed to please her just enough to continue walking.

The glare that Seamus sent towards Dean was playful in every way, dragging the napkin across his face in his best effort to wipe it clean. When he was done, he elbowed Dean lightly in the ribs as a substitute for his failed revenge, and Dean laughed heartily.

"Hey, you missed a spot," Dean murmured after a moment, craning his head around to get a better look. "Just below your eye, there."

"Yeah? Go on then, get it for me," Seamus grinned, jutting out his cheek towards Dean's face - or more specifically, his mouth, and it didn't take long for Dean to understand exactly what Seamus was insinuating. To return the favor, so to speak, just as he'd done for him before.

Visibly hesitating, Dean spared a quick glance around the rest of his classmates before darting in to press a fleeting kiss right at the spot he'd mentioned, drawing back as just as quickly. His flush was back, really only visible to Seamus in his close proximity, who was positively beaming at him.

"Though yeh were sick of peppermint," he mused, searching for Dean's hand under the table again. Dean met him halfway, intertwining their fingers as he shrugged one shoulder.

"Maybe it's not so bad when I'm tasting it _that_ way," he said lowly, quirking a brow as he leaned in a little closer.

"Hmm, I'll definitely have t'keep that in mind for _later_ , then," Seamus smirked, though was promptly cut short by Ron, who had apparently overheard their rather suggestive conversation.

"Not in our dorm you're not!" he exclaimed, and Harry sent him a puzzled look, obviously not having heard any of it. Seamus simply laughed, sending the youngest Weasley brother the most innocent look he could muster.

"Oh, but Ron - what _else_ are those fourposter's curtains for?"

Ron went beet-red, and dropped his utensils with a clatter so he could hold up both of his hands. Harry and Neville looked equally disturbed. " _No_. Please, no - I _really_ don't wanna know what goes on while I'm asleep, okay?"

They may all be supportive, but that of course didn't necessarily mean they wanted to know about _every_ aspect of their relationship.


	14. Gingerbread

More of the domestic dads!AU c': I really can't get enough of this universe at all, so I'd say it's definitely safe to expect more of it in the future!

For reference, the Finnigan kiddies appear at ages eight (Cassidy), ten (Kerry), and twelve (Aedan) in this particular oneshot.

* * *

When Dean ventured downstairs that brisk, Monday morning, he was immediately met with the wafting smell of ginger drifting through the hall and up the staircase.

The overnight snowfall had been heavy enough to call for a day home from school, and while their eldest son and daughter still slept peacefully in their respective rooms, their youngest girl had vastly different plans.

"Pop!" Cassidy exclaimed the minute she'd spotted her father, skidding around the kitchen corner so fast that it was incredible she'd managed to stay upright. "Come here, quick."

She seized his hand and pulled him right off the bottom step before he could form a so much as a sentence or a morning greeting, tugging him straight back into the kitchen. As his eyes adjusted to the bright light streaming in through the windows, Dean immediately learned where the scent of ginger was coming from.

Thin, solid squares of gingerbread lined the kitchen table, where his husband stood leaning over them with his hands resting on his hips. He apparently was rather invested in carefully sizing up each piece, for he didn't notice Dean's presence at all until their daughter spoke again.

"We're gonna make a gingerbread house!" she told him excitedly, clasping her hands together after she climbed her way up onto a chair in front of the table. "Dad said we should wait for you, since you like art stuff and all."

Seamus had finally tore his gaze away from the collection of gingerbread squares, a broad smile lighting up his face. "Was a difficult task, gettin' her to wait," he laughed, reaching over to ruffle the girl's untamed head of curls.

"I can only imagine," Dean said with his own widening grin, striding over to the table to join this portion of his family. Pressing a soft kiss to Seamus' temple while snaking an arm around the shorter man's waist, he directed his gaze to the eight-year-old and raised a single brow. "Though - shouldn't we wait for Aedan and Kerry, too?"

Trying her hardest to be polite towards the suggestion, Cassidy - who was visibly disappointed all the same - pressed her lips firmly together before answering. "Um, well... I guess so."

Laughing, Seamus quickly cut in. "With all the noise we're about to make, I bet they'll wake up in no time. We can start puttin' it together until then, yeah?"

That did a fine job in brightening the girl's attitude, who's gleaming smile and eager nod was very similar to Seamus' own. Oh, how alike they were. It fascinated Dean to observe their similarities, and it was often all too easy to forget that the Irishman's blood was not present in the young child's veins.

It only proved that biological relation was not everything. Though at times, Dean could almost swear that somehow their daughter was growing up to even physically look more and more like his husband with every passing day.

Pulled out of his train of thought by the ever-persistent tugging of his sleeve, Dean smiled the most cheerful of smiles as he looked down at Cassidy. "Well, let's get to it, then. Grab that icing there, and you can help me glue the walls together."

By the time the roof had been placed upon the crooked walls that dripped and oozed with frosting - Dean may be artistic, but Cassidy and Seamus could not quite say the same, and in their adjoined enthusiasm they had evidently ended up doing most of the work - the sound of footsteps could be heard trudging down the stairs.

"Perfect timing," Seamus grinned, moving to stand behind Dean where he placed his hands on either side of his husband's shoulders.

"What's with all the racket down here?" groaned Kerry around a yawn.

Aedan would be the least likely to complain, but the way that he vigorously rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye told that he had likewise been rather rudely awaken.

Dean laughed. "Hey, don't look at me - you can thank your dad and sister for the noise."

Neither looked surprised at that information, both tiredly pulling out a chair each to heavily drop into without a single word. And despite their silence, Dean could tell that their interest had been peaked upon catching sight of the newly assembled gingerbread house that sat - unsteadily - on the table in front of them.

So, it was with very little reluctance that they all simultaneously grabbed for the various packs of candy that were scattered around beside it. If all went as according to speculation, there'd at the very least be a fight or two between the three Finnigan siblings before it was all said and done with.

And truth be told, Dean wouldn't have it any other way. For it was their perfect, imperfect little family that he'd fallen in love with many years after he'd fallen in love with the certain sandy-haired man he'd decide to start it with.


End file.
